Monday, September 18, 2006

Well, the apartment is still here. The Alpha Cat was, by all reports, a stellar host; the Brat spent the entire month in the ceiling, and had to be coaxed down with a bag of catnip upon Pretty Lady's return. The place is clean, and Pretty Lady has reinstalled the microwave, which was, unaccountably, in the utility closet.

Total damages (minor):

• one-half of the big ficus. (How do you kill one-half of a ficus?)

• blue glass Mason jar full of coconut, fell off top of fridge.

• other wheel of bicycle gone (this was to be expected. Replacement wheels look to be the carte blanche familial birthday gift, this year.)

This last issue is the one that bothers Pretty Lady the most. The other damages are so minimal that Pretty Lady feels like she's carping unnecessarily; after all, she got to be with a whole forest for a month. Surely this is worth the sacrifice of half a ficus.

But it is strangely disturbing when one's home smells wrong. Before even unloading the 4-wheeler, Pretty Lady lit a fire under her Personal Aromatherapy Formula, which she will now share.

I love patchouli. Larry got me a patchouli plant last year and it died. I was so bummed out. So he got me another one this year and I put it in a different place and it is thriving. The blossoms smell sooo good. I call it "hippie catnip." *sigh*Good to see you back, Pretty Lady.

I used to think that patchouli was the way unwashed punky guys just naturally smelled, but since I liked a lot of the unwashed punky guys the aroma sort of grew on me. Now I find it provides a nice grounding note to counterbalance the sweetness of the ylang-ylang, which otherwise could become cloying.

Thanks for welcoming me back, although I feel strangely as though you have a telescope trained on my windows...

Yay, you're back! I sympathise with you on the smell of Other People. Since quitting smoking, I can actually *smell* things again, and it's tempting me to take the habit back up. Other people, and most particularly their cars and houses, smell *awful*.

Keep in touch, darlings!

About Me

Darlings, where to start? Sometimes I feel as though I have lived a thousand lives in this one, dewy and unlined though my complexion may be. To Tell All may be to intimidate; thus I maintain, at most times, a discreet reserve. But here I share my musings, perhaps revealing the secret to my exquisite poise and charm.